


Off To The Races

by Kalael



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: 20s au, BlackIce Week, Multi, also known as the fic where Jack bangs everyone, this one wasn't ACTUALLY for blackice week but eh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 12:22:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalael/pseuds/Kalael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack had always been attracted to dangerous things.</p><p>Sex, drugs, and money.  There's really no other way to entertain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Off To The Races

**Author's Note:**

> There's more planned for this but we'll see if I get around to it once I get the other projects done. Also this is just a temp title. Also Jack really does bang just about everyone and I hope I get the time to write all that.

Jack had always been attracted to dangerous things. He wasn’t stupid, he knew better than to take the drugs or the alcohol (on most occasions), but the adrenaline rush that came with dirty work and being where he shouldn’t be was an addiction all its own. It’s all too easy in St. Louis, far from the Connecticut farm he distantly remembered from his childhood.

He was positive that it only seemed distant due to the opium in his system. Jack blinked, his eyelids dragging heavily, and he turned away the pipe that someone was handing to him. It was too dim to see but he was sure--mostly certain--that it was Tooth. He rarely indulged, he’d seen enough people succumb to addiction to know that he didn’t want that fate (or the debt). But when Tooth offered it up...well, it was a nice way to wind down. Especially after a day that had gone as terrible as that day had.

He exhaled and watched the smoke in front of his face twist around his breath, disturbed by the gust of air. He caught patterns in the smoke, dark whorls and spirals, but he blinked and they were gone.

Where the hell was his hat?

“Here, love.” Something was settled on top of his head and as Jack raised a hand to check, his fingers brushed a feather bracelet. Definitely Tooth. “You didn’t think I would misplace your darling hat, did you? Shame on you. No faith.”

“I would never even dream of thinking that! Maybe I should be the one offended, since you’re so quick to think the worst of me.” Jack twined their fingers together and pulled her small hand down to kiss her knuckles. Tooth laughed and pulled his head back to kiss his forehead, smearing lipstick over his brow.

“You know I love you.” Her accent came out when she was high, and that coupled with her elaborate costume made her seem like some Indian goddess. Jack smiled and let her pull his head further back, his neck straining to the point where it was almost painful but the opium kept it at bay. “You also know that I hate when you hide your lovely hair. And you are covered in soot, again.” Her nails, sharpened to points, scraped lightly down his throat. Jack just continued to smile. She wouldn’t hurt him, not without reason. Her eyes glowed in the lamplight, nearly purple from the tinted glass around them.

“It draws attention.” His response was a breathy whisper. He was very aware of the nails resting on the delicate skin over his adam’s apple. “Sorry if I dislike having eyes on me. North doesn’t complain.”

“North will not complain about anything.” Tooth snorted, though her expression was fond. She moved her fingers from Jack’s throat, instead pulling away Jack’s hat and running her fingers through his hair. “He loves everything. Big, foolish oaf.” Jack’s mind wandered to North’s particular love of knives, and his mild obsession with the color red. His brain felt less fuzzy. The opium was already beginning to wear off.

“He agrees with me though. So do Aster and Sandy.” Jack reasoned. Tooth grimaced and gave a sharp tug to his hair, then released him.

“Fine, you are the victor this time. But I want you to wash up, the dirt is not becoming. You are not going anywhere else tonight. Use soap.” Which meant that she had probably gotten someone to prepare the bathtub for him. It was Jack’s turn to grimace, because the water was likely cold by now and Tooth always insisted on pouring strange scents into the bath. He stood up, feeling lightheaded but no worse for the wear, and kissed Tooth’s offered hand before wandering out of the parlor to the stairs that led to the upper floor of the house.

The bathtub was a massive copper monster and Jack secretly despised it. He made a face at his distorted reflection on the polished surface as he leaned over to test the water. He was right, she’d poured something weird smelling in there again. Jack scrunched his nose and got undressed. It would be a quick bath, but it would feel nice to wash the dirt off. There was more soot and dust than usual due to the scuffle he’d gotten into. He tried not to think about it.

Whatever Tooth had put in the water was apparently designed to reduce the ache in his ribs. Jack mentally apologized to her for making fun of her weird bath scents. Even the opium hadn’t taken it fully away. He sat for a while in the water, which was thankfully lukewarm, and watched the dirt come off of his skin. He was so pale in the steadily darkening water that it looked like someone had poured milk into it. Jack winced and hurried to wash his hair, then stumbled out of the bath and wrapped himself in the towel that was slung over the vanity chair.

Every day he was thankful that Tooth and North had picked up him. He couldn’t have imagined proper baths before they came into the picture. His hair dripped into his eyes and he squinted at the window through his lashes. The sun was long gone by now, and the moon was only half full. It was still bright enough to see by, though, and Jack didn’t feel like staying inside despite Tooth’s earlier declaration. He quickly dried off and grabbed the clean clothes that Tooth had laid out for him. At least it wasn’t one of her weird costumes. He wouldn’t have been able to sneak out in one of those, not unless he wanted to attract some unwanted attention. He’d learned his lesson the first time.

The pants were starched to the point that they were nearly immobile and Jack sighed before changing back into his old ratty pair. The shirt wasn’t much better, but his other one was smudged with blood and that wouldn’t come out. After adjusting his suspenders he shrugged his vest on and ignored the jacket, pulling his hat onto his head and tucking his hair under it. This late at night only the drunks would be out, and anyone sober enough to recognize him would keep off his back.

Jack slid the bathroom window open and climbed carefully onto the fire escape, his bare feet making his escape nearly silent. He kept his shoes in one hand as he scrambled over the railing and hit the ground in a crouch. Success. He kept to back alleys, weaving his way through St. Louis with ease. He knew which areas to avoid and which fences to jump. Once or twice he stumbled across some people--a couple who didn’t wait to get home, a drunk passed out on the ground (Jack gladly relieved him of his wallet)--but it was mostly uneventful.

He was nearly to the small apartment complex where he rented a room when he stumbled across some rubbish spilling out of an alley. He swore as he lurched forward, prepared to bloody his palms on the gravel, but his fall came to a jarring halt when a pair of hands wrapped around his waist.

Jack couldn’t help his hair trigger reaction He swung his fist out and caught whoever it was in the chest. They grunted and released him, which sent Jack careening towards the ground. He winced as his knees took the brunt of the impact, irritating the bruises that were already forming from earlier. The heels of his palms weren’t much better off, and his cap had fallen just out of reach. Jack glanced warily over his shoulder and found himself staring into the most interesting face he’d seen in a long time.

He’d never seen someone with a nose like that, and North was Russian. Even Aster’s weird flat nose had nothing on this guy. Those eyes, though....

Jack felt his mouth go dry and he clenched his fists in the dirt. They were narrow and dangerous and glaring at him, and Jack was pretty positive that if this man asked he would give himself over in a heartbeat. He didn’t know if it was the fear or the residual effects of the opium, but the man’s body language basically screamed ‘I will kill you’ and it made Jack want to speak to him all the more.

“Sorry.” He managed, his voice coming out hoarser than he’d expected. The man’s glare changed, becoming less angry and more...something else. Jack felt his heart speed up, adrenaline kicking in. He wanted that ‘something else’.

“A bit late for a pretty thing like you to be out of doors.” Oh, it was not fair for someone to posses a voice like that. Not fair at all. What was that accent? Jack swallowed but his tongue felt like it was lead in his mouth. “Well, get up.” Jack couldn’t move. The man sighed and reached out to haul Jack to his feet. Standing only a few inches apart now, Jack was forced to crane his neck back to look the man in the eye. He liked tall. Tall was great.

“Um. It’s not quite that late. I apologize. I should be going.” He started to move back, but he barely managed to shift an inch when the hand on his wrist tightened.

“I’ve not seen you around before.” The man said, peering closely at him. Jack smiled awkwardly and tried to pull away again, testing the grip the man had. Too tight to yank free from. He wondered what else those hands were capable of doing.

“Uh, well, I don’t really get out much.”

“I’m certain I would recognize hair like yours. A face like yours.” _Not if it’s covered in dirt_ , Jack thought to himself. And then he realized that this man was taking an interest in him, and his blood went roaring through his ears.

God, he was going to get himself killed one day.

“Tell me your name.” Jack jerked to attention, his eyes meeting grey ones. It was odd, having someone so focused on him. Unless it was Tooth, North, or occasionally Aster or Sandy...Jack shuddered and tried to focus on something that _wasn’t_ his teenage libido.

“I’m Jack.” He offered up. The man frowned at the lack of a last name, but didn’t press.

“Pitch Black, at your service. Where are you going? I can walk you home. A boy like you should not be out alone.”

“I’m touched by your concern, but...but I’d rather go on my own. After all, a well dressed man like you shouldn’t be out by the wharf. That’s asking for trouble.”

Pitch narrowed his eyes and Jack just smiled. It was obvious the man didn’t belong, that he was out of place. And the name was ringing warning bells, ones that Jack couldn’t quite ignore. He wanted to say yes, wanted to take that man home and take his time in peeling that well-tailored suit right off, but there were some things even Jack couldn’t shake off. So it was with regret that he pulled out of Pitch’s loosened grip and stepped away.

“I’m sure I’ll see you around, Mr. Black.” With one last lazy smile over his shoulder, Jack headed off in the opposite direction of his flat. He’d circle back around once he was sure it was safe, though it would probably be a better idea to go back to Tooth and North’s house. Tooth would already be annoyed with him, but he wasn’t one of her caged parakeets.

Jack walked into an alley and leaned back against the side of a building, rubbing a hand over where his heart was. It was beating so quickly, from fear and arousal and probably a million other things. He ran the name over in his mind, trying to remember where he’d last heard it.

“Pitch Black, huh?” Jack murmured, biting his lip as he imagined what might have happened if he’d taken that man home. Nothing good would have come of it, in the long run. After all, Pitch Black was definitely the man that Tooth and North had at the top of their hit list.

Jack tilted his head back and laughed breathlessly. Like that was going to stop him.


End file.
